


What a world we could make!

by IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Elder Wand (Harry Potter), M/M, One Shot, Original house elf character - Freeform, Polyjuice Potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27545089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis/pseuds/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis
Summary: There is little in life that Gellert finds more amusing than the antics of his house elf. Naturally, Albus stick-in-the-mud Dumbledore does not agree.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	What a world we could make!

**Author's Note:**

> I have loved these characters for a very very very long time, and I am determined not to allow JKR to ruin them for me. I am not making money off of them, and I concede that she is the only person allowed to license any other person or entity to do so, but I draw the line at saying that she ‘owns’ them. Art is a wild thing. I have read many a fic that seems to have a better handle on the potential of what she created than she does herself.

“Gellert Marcion Alexander Grindelwald!”

Albus Dumbledore came striding into the study and slapped the desk with a rolled-up newspaper. Gellert took off his reading glasses and looked up from the manuscript he had been annotating.

“What is it now, dear?”  
“Don’t use that tone with me!”  
“Which –“  
“The ‘my husband is such a nag’ tone. The ‘I am just an innocent downtrodden man’ tone. The ‘it is not as if I empowered my house-elf to terrorize all of Europe’ tone.”

“Oh?” Gellert brightened. “What has Winni done this time?”  
“ _Your elf_ has killed a few dozen Aurors, as well as Leta Lestrange, and she nearly burned Paris to the ground!”  
“Leta? Or Winni?” Gellert asked. For an educated man, the frequency with which Albus’ antecedents were unclear was appalling. Gellert had been unsuccessfully trying to break Albus of it since they had met one another, to no avail. It was as if he did it to spite Gellert, at this point.

“Gellert. This has to stop.”  
“You wish for me to stop correcting your grammar, or…?”  
“You _know_ what I _mean_ , Gellert.”

He did. Gellert _always_ knew what Albus meant. He had even known by the way that Albus had used all four of Gellert’s names but none of his titles that Albus had read about Winni in the paper and was angry about whatever it was that she had done most recently.

“I really cannot help it, Albus, if the majority of Wizardkind is so idiotic that they would follow a deranged house-elf, so long as she is stoking their feelings of persecution and using words like ‘freedom’ and ‘truth’ and –“  
“ _And_ what? And wielding your wand?! Honestly, Gellert!”

“She – ah – “ This was not at all the right time to confess, and so of course, Gellert could not help himself. “She won the Wand from me in a game of Canasta. Fourteen years ago. I’m afraid that Winni _is_ in fact the Master of the Elder Wand.”  
“And _you_ are _Winni’s_ master, so it would be simple enough to order her to _return it to you_.”

Gellert was not quick enough to reply. In the infinitesimal silence, Albus' face had gone from impatient to outraged, as the full meaning of Gellert's words finally registered.  
“You were _wagering_ with the _Elder Wand?!_ ”  
No, nothing got past Gellert’s squawkier half. It took upwards of 30 seconds, sometimes, for Albus to grasp the most salient point, but he did always manage it.

“My hand should have been unbeatable. I still say she cheated.”  
“One can never rule out cheating,” Albus admonished. “I cannot _imagine_ what possessed you to risk even the tiniest possibility of losing –“  
“ _The Resurrection Stone_ , Albus. Her stake was a vow to find and retrieve the Resurrection Stone.“  
Gellert could have never _ordered_ Winni to bring him the Stone - the standard house elf contract forbade any Wizard sending a house elf on a ‘likely hopeless quest.’

Albus deflated and nodded in understanding. ‘Double or nothing’ was Gellert’s kind of bet, and Albus knew Gellert well enough to know that.

“So long as you are offering explanations, perhaps you can tell me how it is that your elf killed all those people? It is meant to be impossible for them to kill Wizards!”  
‘Impossible for _elves_ to kill Wizards,’ Gellert corrected silently. _People_ killed Wizards all the time.

“Well spotted, Love," Gellert answered cheerfully. "It does seem that ‘impossible’ is an exaggeration.”  
“And you have known it to be an exaggeration since…”  
“I was as surprised as you are when I learned that an elf may kill a Wizard, so long as the elf is in the form of a Wizard themselves.”  
“When?”  
“So far as I know, elves can only take the form of Wizards by means of Polyjuice, and only on the express order of the Wizard they are –“  
“ _No_ , Gellert. _How long have you known_? _When_ did you learn of this – exception to the prohibition against elves killing Wizards?”  
“Ah…”

It had been September of 1899. Gellert had been sitting in the most disreputable bar in Wizarding Zagreb, about to fall out of his chair, when the little elf had appeared, propped him up, and asked, “Sad Wizard needs an elf? Sad Wizard wants Winni to kill the bad Witch?”  
“Bad – Witch?” Gellert had asked, confused by literally everything about this interaction, including where he was and how he had gotten there.  
Eventually it became clear that the freelancing elf had guessed correctly that Gellert had had his heart broken, but had guessed the gender of the culprit incorrectly.

Gellert felt that it spoke to his good character that he did _not_ send Winni off to ‘take care of things’ for him, in spite of being so inebriated that he did not remember – in an ordinary way - anything about that afternoon. He only knew what happened now because he had recognized the moment as extraordinary, and had been just lucid enough to bottle the memory to view in a Pensieve later, to examine when sober. Not that he would have ever sent her to kill _Albus_ \- Gellert didn't need proof to know that no matter how drunk he was, no matter how spurned he felt, he had never wished for Albus to die. But it was something saintly never to have even seriously considered sending Winni after _Aberforth_. Not that Gellert planned ever to say so to Albus – Albus would take offense at Gellert thinking to mention the possibility, rather than give him the credit he deserved for allowing Albus’ brother to live.

“I have known for rather longer than a day, I will confess.”

Albus clenched his fists and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he said, “I can’t believe that you are still supplying the little murderess with hair.”

“Honestly, Albus. Who do you take me for? I’m not _encouraging_ this behavior.”  
“You find it _amusing_ enough!”  
“I am, admittedly, curious as to how far she might go! I hadn’t expected for her to last the weekend, when I left. And I only gave her enough hair and potion to last five days.”

That had been twelve years before. Building a political movement was slow and discouraging work, and Gellert had had no one with whom to share it. He had missed Albus. Talking to Winni had not been the same – she was bloodthirsty, and lacked all nuance. Gellert had grown to feel that he hadn’t had a clear idea of who he was and what he hoped to accomplish since that Summer in Godric’s Hollow. So, when Gellert learned in a letter from Bathilda that Albus had been awarded a professorship at Hogwarts, Gellert had gone to Scotland with the intention of finding Albus and reconciling with him. Before he left, he had ordered Winni to fill in for him ‘in his absence.’

He had been absent _considerably_ longer than he had intended.

The reconciliation had _not_ been instantaneous – it had taken _at least_ 45 minutes. Albus and Gellert first had to duel, then argue, then shove one another around like Muggles until they ended up kissing one another on the floor. Only then did they make their apologies and confess that they had been barely able to function without one another, which was a complete lie, as they had somehow each managed to survive sixteen years in one another’s absence. But to say that they had been ‘barely able to function’ was at least _more_ true than the still more inadequate sentiment that they had ‘missed one another.’ Simply standing in the kitchen with Albus, drinking tea together, Gellert’s chest was filled with a potent mix of elation and anxiety that he had only ever felt in Albus’ presence. Gellert felt an ache when Albus was in another room, much less out of the house. It felt somehow lonelier even to be awake when Albus was sleeping. The two of them did everything – kissing, laughing, debating - with the same giddy intensity as they had when they were teenagers. But Gellert recognized the feeling only now that he had Albus back – being in love was not the sort of feeling one could merely recollect in love’s long absence.

When Gellert appeared at his door, Albus had just signed a contract that would keep him in Scotland for another seventeen months, while Gellert, for his part, had nothing more than half-a-dozen people who would hang on his words in the coffeeshops of Vienna. It should have been no hardship to leave these scant fruits of his labours behind. But Gellert could not help but remember the last time he had felt this way, how short-lived it had been. He had anxiously written to his elf, and soon received the reply that all was well, and it would be no hardship for her to carry on the deception for a month or so while Gellert decided how best to proceed.

Four months later, feeling more confident in Albus’ continued affections, Gellert decided it was time to call off the ruse and bring Winni to Scotland. But when he summoned her, it had taken six hours for her to arrive. Her excuse? She had been in Pressburg, leading a demonstration against the Statute of Secrecy.  
“A demonstration?!” Gellert had asked, incredulously.  
“A trifle,” Winni sniffed. “No more than three dozen people.”

How had the elf achieved so much in so little time? Gellert had been intrigued. So instead of cutting ties in Austria as Gellert had intended, he had simply told Winni, “you are doing well. My orders are unchanged. You may continue acting as me in my absence.”

He had not seen her since, outside of the pages of a newspaper.

“If _you_ are not supplying her with hair, _as you claim_ , then how is it that ‘Gellert Grindelwald’ is gaining followers by the day?”  
Gellert opened his mouth to reply, but Albus interrupted with a new thought – a thought that Gellert _knew_ would be offensive, based only on the way that Albus was narrowing his eyes.  
“You have not been supplying hair to _someone else_ , have you? How many Grindelwalds are there?!”

“I have done no such thing! No, this ‘Grindelwald’ can only be Winni.”  
“So, how - ?”  
“I suspect,” Gellert said, “that she has been supplying her own hair.”  
Albus paled. “Recursion. I had never considered –“  
“That you need only obtain a person’s hair the one time? And afterwards you have an endless supply, if you think only to harvest it? It’s the only explanation for that abysmal haircut.”  
“Yes, where else would she have gotten your hair?”

Gellert had meant that treating his hair as nothing more than a commodity to be harvested was the only explanation for preferring to look like a hedgehog rather than to sport the thick and wavy golden mane that Albus loved to run his fingers through, but yes, it was also true that she could not have taken hair from Gellert himself without permission. Though he _had_ ordered her to impersonate him, and stealing his hair _could_ be seen as a necessary condition for carrying out the order…

“Recursive Polyjuicing... what a tremendous breakthrough,” Gellert mused.  
“A breakthrough?! Gellert! Think of the mischief it would cause if people knew!”  
“I was not suggesting that we _tell_ anyone – only that it is useful information for _us_ to have if we were to choose to… move to Paraguay, for instance.”  
“We are not _moving_ to _Paraguay_ , Gellert. You need to order her to stop. Or simply – rescind the order for her to impersonate you. You never meant for her to do it for so long, anyway.”

Gellert did not appreciate being told what he _needed to do_ at any time, but Albus had not even _acknowledged_ what an _education_ Winni had been providing the two of them.  
“You are not _glad_ that I let the experiment continue? Think of all that we have learned about human nature!”  
Albus shuddered. “I would as soon know less.”  
Gellert laughed. “See! Without Winni, we would not know that the curiosity of Albus Dumbledore knows a limit!”  
“Gellert.”

Oh dear. That flat and humourless tone was Albus’ ‘I’m going on a sex strike’ voice. Gellert had failed to heed that tone of voice only once, which had resulted in being deprived of all physical contact for more than six weeks – over his ‘failure’ to brush some stray tea leaves off the counter one evening. There were only two courses of action open to Gellert now: calling off Winni this instant or…

Gellert stood and stretched: he lifted his arms, pulled back his shoulders until the fabric of his shirt strained against his chest, and rolled his head to the side with a moan.

“Gellert –“ His name came too quickly out of Albus’ mouth – rising like a question, rather than falling in admonition, as Albus had surely intended instead.

“I have been bending over this desk… “  
Gellert placed both hands on the desk and arched his back. His second groan, like the first one, was unfeigned. It _did_ feel good to stretch. He should have been getting up periodically to release his muscles anyway, but it was easy to forget when he didn’t have an audience.

Gellert wasn’t opposed to the idea of calling Winni off – not _categorically_ opposed – but he would not be made to agree under the threat of being denied sex. The moment Albus became aware of his still unconscious plan for bending Gellert’s will, the two of them were sure to be at a standoff for – well, possibly for months. Years, even. Gellert could not allow it. He would drag Albus back from the edge of insanity before the idea of using his body as a bargaining chip became fixed in his head irrevocably.

“We were not finished talking about –“  
Gellert started walking away from Albus.  
“Sitting in that _stiff, hard_ chair..." Gellert rubbed his arse, slapped it hard, then rubbed it once more. "For such a long…”

“Gellert, don’t you walk away from –“  
Gellert paused and looked over his shoulder. “I’m not _leaving_ , Albus – I’m simply _adjourning to the bedroom_. I am _so close_ – _achingly_ close – to understanding your… “ Gellert raked his eyes down Albus’ form, then bit his lip when his gaze settled on the bulge straining the front of his tight custom-tailored trousers. “Your _position_. But my muscles are just so _tense_ – it would be better if you would come. With me. Yes? To the bedroom? We can continue this - conversation - there.”  
Albus made an exasperated noise, but as Gellert walked towards the bedroom, he knew that Albus would be right behind him.

**~ EIGHTEEN YEARS LATER ~**

“I called Winni off,” Gellert said.  
“You did?” Albus asked, tilting his head in the way that he did when he was _pretending_ not to already know something that Gellert had just told him.  
Gellert narrowed his eyes.

“What do you mean by asking, ‘you did?’ I just _said_ I did.”  
“May I ask – what made you decide to do so _now_ , of all times?”  
“I suspect you _know_ why,” Gellert said peevishly, not sure if he was pleased that Albus had gamed him, appalled that Albus had taken thirty years to figure out how to do it, or disappointed in himself for not noticing Albus’ machinations before now.

Albus laid down his book, walked over to where Gellert was sitting, and sat in his lap. Albus twisted a still golden curl around his finger and looked at Gellert’s mouth. “I can only guess,” Albus answered, lightly pressing his lips to Gellert’s and lingering there.  
When he pulled back, Gellert sighed like the smitten idiot he was.

“You stopped _telling me_ to do it.”  
“That’s right,” Albus agreed. Slowly, so slowly, he dropped gentle kisses down Gellert’s jawline. “I stopped even _asking you_ to do it.” His mouth found Gellert’s again, and Albus kissed Gellert with such focused attention that Gellert might have been forgiven for believing that Albus had lost the thread of the conversation – if Gellert had not spent the past thirty years learning that such a thing was impossible for Albus bloody Dumbledore. Nevertheless, Gellert lost himself in the kiss so much that it was startling when Albus suddenly broke it off and stood, looking at Gellert with an expression of consternation.  
“Seven _years_ , Gellert! I didn’t think it would take _seven years_ of not asking! For the love of Merlin, you are the most stubborn man who ever lived!”

It had not really been seven years, had it? More like, a few weeks? But perhaps Albus did not know to count disapproving looks and deep sighs.

In any case, Gellert had needed for it to be _clear_ that it had been _his_ decision. And to be fair, it would not have taken _quite_ so long if Winni had not reached out and asked for terms of surrender two years ago, just as Gellert was getting ready to crack. Negotiating with Winni would have made it _her_ decision.

Gellert's own _husband_ – perhaps the most powerful Wizard alive - had been begging Gellert (and _not_ begging him, it seemed) for decades; it had seemed wrong simply to capitulate at the first owl from his _elf_ , no matter how talented and destructive she might be.

Winni had claimed in her letter that she had begun to tire. The famous revolutionary ‘Gellert Grindelwald’ no longer looked anything like Albus Dumbledore’s longtime ‘roommate’ – she was a copy of a copy of a copy, ad (literally) nauseam, and the resulting deterioration was clear. It seemed that it was not, after all, a good idea to brew Polyjuice recursively.

Gellert stood and pulled Albus to him.  
“Yes, I am a stubborn, stubborn man. And _you_ have been such a _good boy_. You deserve a reward for your patience, don’t you think?”  
“As good as that sounds, I don’t know that I can go again so soon, Gellert,” Albus protested.  
Gellert laughed. He was well aware and had just been enjoying teasing Albus. Wizards might age more slowly than other humans, but even _Wizards_ in their mid-sixties needed more than an hour or two to recover their energy.

“That is too bad. But you have been _unusually_ good. Perhaps you deserve a _singular_ reward? _Mastery of the Elder Wand_ , perhaps?”  
That Gellert’s elf had held the Wand and Albus had not… Albus hadn’t mentioned it in several years, but Gellert knew that he resented it.

“ _Master?_ ”  
“Master.”  
“You mean for _me_ to have it? _Myself?_ ”  
“Where is the man who told me more than a hundred times that I’ve demonstrated I can’t be trusted with it? Yes, _you_. _Your_ self. It’s all arranged. You will disarm Winni, and then set her up in a nice cell in the dungeon of her castle, with a lifetime’s supply of fresh Polyjuice, sourced from some Muggle who looks nothing like me and something vaguely like the form that she’s been sporting. Voila! Europe is safe, and Albus Dumbledore is the continent’s celebrated Saviour.”  
“I don’t know that I need _all that_ ,” Albus protested.  
“You deserve it entirely,” Gellert insisted. “But if you ever get tired of the acclaim, we can always run away together to Paraguay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Remus Lupin tells Hagrid in the Deathly Hallows that Polyjuice was formulated only for humans – but I did not know that when this plot bunny came into my life, so consider this an AU, where it is possible for a bored Wizard, if they are lucky enough to be served by an elf, to order that elf to impersonate them for long enough to take a little break from their social obligations.


End file.
